


No Time For Caution

by NICEISME



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Prompt Fill, Unhealthy Amount of Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NICEISME/pseuds/NICEISME
Summary: Fill this prompt..."So everyone at MACUSA has a healthy respect/fear of Graves. He's powerful, he was tortured and shrugged it off, he's just all around a intimidating guy without trying.Enter Newt, a bright sunshine with shy smiles and just overall adorable.Everyone is left stunned when Newt treats Graves overly affectionate, touching him, fixing his suit, stealing a bite of his food. Etc.I just wants the Aurors bracing for sweet Newt to get yelled at and it never happens. Graves lets him off every time and eventually everyone realizes their dating."5+1 times with unhealthy amounts of crack and swearing.*Now Completed!*





	1. Amelia Fontaine

**Author's Note:**

> The link to prompt– http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=1879712#cmt1879712
> 
> It was too adorable, I couldn't help myself.  
> Seriously, English isn't my first language.  
> But I need, NEED to fill this prompt while my cardiovascular course is threatening to kill me in my med school. Bruh– whatever. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, much love.

1\. Amelia Fontaine

As one of the twelve senior aurors, she was required at a bimonthly meeting of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. For most of the times were serious ones with all their unsolved cases, or in some rare occasions, boring than wand permit section like _this one_ , sorry not sorry, Abernathy.

She wandlessly lit up another cigarette while listening to these idiots, excluding Patel and Graves, yes excluded Graves away from the word idiot as far as possible, she loved her life, for fuck’s sake.

“—shut your hole, O’Brien. You ain't know shit! Speedy will not win this fucking race! Lincoln will turn his furred ass around and laugh at him at the final line, then he will twirl around twice, TWICE, before he laughs at you. You will be too stunned to say shit and speedy won't even anywhere near the finished line!” Did she say idiots yet? _Idiots_.

Fontaine tuned out the imbecile conversation from her mind and turned her gaze to Patel, let _Morgana robe’s on fire_ , her lady was gorgeous today.

A too loud rebuke from O’Brien barked back at his friend made the room tense, because _shit_ , that was way over Graves’ decibel preference. From her peripheral vision, she could see the pale realizing face of the suicidal bastard and a hand, fuck it was a strong hand; can choke you to death kind of strong, halfway on the boss’ face.

 _Fuck_.

She made an eye contact with Patel across the table, the only beauty in this room, she would die with this kind of view, thank you very much.

Halfway through her praying, a distinct sound of the door open reaching her ears. Oh _Merlin_ , now? Another interruption of no-interrupted meetings?

She prayed faster.

“Oh, hello? I didn't know there's a meeting?”

 _Scamander_ , please put your fluffy head back from the door, he could snap your neck with it!

“Ah— well, since I’m already here, Percy? I was just coming to tell you that Jacob ran out of coffee bean this morning, so I brought you black tea. Sufficient enough caffeine, I hope?”

It was such a pretty freckled neck. Oh my god.

The room was eerily quiet for there was no one breathing at the moment, probably in the next moment too, _for real_. Having whipped her head to look at the Scamander, now Fontaine was regretting it immensely, she wanted to have Patel as the last thing to see in this life, but she was too scared to even looked away from the red head’s innocent expression. At least he was lovely in his sword-less harakiri.

“It's alright, Newt. Just leave the cup at my office, Thank you.”

What? WHAT?

Looking at the fallen cigarette, she thought of how she hadn't finished her praying, and now she was dead! That wasn't something that could just happen in real life, right? Fuck. She should have chosen the shorter version.

“Okay. See you later, Percy. Have a nice meeting.” He finished that with a smile, a fucking genuine one at that, and walked back to hell, she was sure that's where Scamander came from.

“Is the door more appealing than the topic we are discussing, Auror Fontaine?”

She’d never known she could die again in her death.


	2. Matthew Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting longer and longer like how the love for this ship of mine is getting out of hand. 
> 
> And you guys are amazing, I'm so glad to see your wonderful response, kudos and comments and everything. Seriously, you made my day. 
> 
> I will reply to every single one of you with utmost care, so please, be patient. I want to spend the time reading and writing to your words when I'm not this sleep deprived. 
> 
> Much love. XOXO

2. Matthew Woods

Aside from being the head journalist of MACUSA, specializing in criminal section, he was positive that he’s a human being, who need to eat three times a day. _To survive_ , you know? But this day might not be the case.

Andrea’s café was a small lovely No-Maj coffee shop that serves better foods than coffee and the street view was nice too, it stood two blocks away from MACUSA, a perfect distance to walk. So it was understandable that Woods would take a lunch break at this quiet place regularly.

He had been revising his life choices for thirteen minutes and twenty seconds, counting time soothed your nerves, haven't you heard it before?

Two tables away, at the far corner of the café, sat a director of the magical security and his oblivious companion, a magizoologist with no self-preservation or _MACUSA’s sweetheart_. Woods couldn't see the brit’s face very well, unlike his date. _A date with satan_ , he would publish a book with that name, if he survived this shit.

Woods’ Carbonara laid forgotten on his plate, he left his appetite on it as well. As he wasn't eating, and he didn't know what else to do that wasn't required himself to walk out of this place without getting noticed so he kept staring at the two.

It was such a bizarre image to look at, his kind of boss? Let's stick to just a boss, one of the most powerful wizards of their time, who had been tortured by the darkest one and lived on to fucked that bleached pineapple up himself. Percival Graves, _Percival fucking Graves_ , and he was smiling! It was small and gentle. _Gentle_? What the fuck is wrong with him to put that word in the same sentence with his boss. But he didn't know how to describe that- that emotion? Is his boss emotional? Fuck no, Grindelwald would suit with the word more than this man.

He choked on nothing, no– no, not nothing, it was the sight he was seeing! _Mr. Scamander stealing a shrimp from Satan_! It did sound like a head news. And was that a giggle? Mr. Scamander giggling in front of the Satan. And the Satan reached out to strangle, no not strangle, wipe at his lower lip. Wipe what? Was that thumb poisoned? _Mercy Lewis_ , no. That thumb wasn't poisoned because he put it into his own mouth. And the satan licked the sauces from Scamander– _What the fuck is going on?_

He felt like he was suffering from brain hypoxia, he didn't want to die like this, he hadn't finished his Carbonara yet.

Oh my god, they were standing up, oh shit, no no no. Graves was helping Scamander in his coat, tucking at the scarf or throttling? No, he wouldn't kill this _sunshine_ right? He was loved by the whole MACUSA and there would be too many witnesses here, it would be too risky. Oh my god, Mr. Scamander please stop, why did you do that, he could fix his own tie, stop it! He couldn't watch it anymore.

“Matthew? Percy, he’s the one who helped me rescued Pickett! Remember when I told you about the old journalist lady, thought he was one of her quills…How long have you been sitting here all alone?” Too long, sunshine. Too long.

“Boss–.” He suffered from hypoxemia, for fuck’s sake.

“Woods.” Satan’s voice was scarier up close. He looked at him like he forgot to do something, oh wait, fuck.

“Ah– Ne– Mr. Scamander, good afternoon? I just arrived here, like my meal.” He gestured toward his cold food.

“Oh!– sorry. Sorry. Please, do continue. We're about to leave.” Please, sunshine. _Please leave faster._

“It's okay. Ah– good day, sir?” Why was he standing up?

“ _I will_. Come on, Newt. Let's leave the man be.” With that, the Satan took away the waving sunshine out of the café.

Woods swore he would let his wife made him a lunchbox from now on.


	3. Samuel Grant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this specific chapter.  
> 1\. Heavy like super heavy swearing, trust me, I think I wrote the f-word more than 10 times just for this chapter.  
> 2\. Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction - Reference and Character's persona.
> 
> So if anyone finds those facts offensive or make you uncomfortable, please skip this chapter.
> 
> Ps. English is still not my first language, apology in advance for any errors or typos. I don't mind if you point it out for me. that would be very kind of you actually.  
> Ps II. Your Kudos and comments and everything. They mean so much to me. Thank you.  
> Ps III. I love you guys, let me give you this sleep deprived hug for you lots.
> 
> XOXO

3\. Samuel Grant

  
_(This is Samuel L. Jackson. Wait, it's Samuel Grant who played by Samuel L. Jackson in his 70s but holding a wand instead of Star Model B pistol, dressed in a white robe with his Pulp Fiction hairstyle and everything.)_  
  
It was another busy day of Emergency Department at the Mediwing site, a rush of flying bandages through the sterile cloud that would pore opioid rains to some low-threshold patients or a little bit of lighting for whiny ones, less hassle for the healers and whatnot. Suddenly, this much of a chaos wasn't enough, for there were distinct sounds of appearation at the place all at once.  
  
He had to cane his fucking self here! That damnable privilege always came with an auror title.  
  
Grant was the head of healers at Medical Unit of MACUSA or in other words, bad ass motherfucker who know what's he doing and he was too old for this abhorrent little shits. Aurors and their selves-important arse.  
  
“Out of the way!” _Rude._  
  
“Hold on, motherfucker. YOU ain't gonna–.”  
  
Upon seeing the famous director’s unconscious form made him faltered in his _courtesy_ , he immediately barked out to the nosy nurses his orders. Himself prepared the needed potions and led them to the man’s own room. Graves was a too long-ass patient in their care.  
  
It was a vigorous reducto, softened by a powerful protego, still; it was strong enough to knock out their DMLE. No concussion or hemorrhage, he would wake up and piss off in no time.  
  
“–He jumped right in front of it! The cage! Holding some young demiguise. No one saw where the spell was directing at, and then Bam! Reducto against protego, louder than a banshee wail. And there he was, laying in comatose, scared all of us the fuck out! For a demiguise!”  
  
“Language, kiddo.” Grant was talking with the two aurors who carried their stunned boss to him. He would say that he was very much surprised, since Grindelwald’s incident, Graves had never set a foot in this place again, and here he was, for one goddamn demiguise.  
  
The monitor-spell by the swollen head of Graves beeped out a quiet signal, telling that the consciousness arose in the patient. Well, that was quick, always a strong boy, he was. Grant diverted his attention back to the not so young aurors beside him, they looked relieved but very alarmed.  
  
“Shit, did he hear us? Fuck, I’m so dead. We're so dead.” –Auror Number One.  
  
“Calm down, man. He’s– just getting his consciousness back, he didn't hear any of it. _Oh Mercy Lewis_ , he's about to open his eyes!” –Auror Number Two.  
  
“We should go, now! Leave him alone! Remember what happened to Adam when boss saw his ass hanging around waiting for him to wake up? Poor boy turned from worried to petrified!” –Auror Number One.  
  
“You’re right. Let's go–.” –Auror Number Two.  
  
But before any of them could move a muscle, Graves’ eyes opened at the same time as the wooden door. _Wasn't that supposed to be wardened up?_ Auror Number Two screamed internally.  
  
Grant was about to curse the newcomer to death but this kid, _his kid_ , sweet cinnamon roll with an extra cinnamon, he’d rather bite his own tongue before said something as much as ‘bloody’ to him. So the old man let it slide and gave a full grin to him instead.  
  
“Percy! You're awake. Oh Merlin, are you alright? Aww...that looks hurt, of course, it hurts, what am I thinking? Wait, can you remember me? Do you remember anything–.” MACUSA’s sweetheart was fussing over their just-woke-up boss. Shits were about to go down, hard... Oh please save this lovely human, _he hadn't known better_. – Auror Number One muttered silently to the higher magic.  
  
“Who are you?” Hold the fuck on, what? Grant was certain that the impact wasn't that severe.  
  
“Oh my god– Percy…, it's me. Newt. Your–.” Was that a smirk? _The utter cock did make a joke_.  
  
“Director Graves...” He couldn't help himself but dare to save the Scamander boy, this one was his favorite, he said it; did he not?  
  
Poorly plastered to the wall, two aurors were suffocating themselves, waiting for the bomb to go off, Mr. Scamander and we were too young to die, not like you, old man! We still have so many futures ahead of us. Both Auror screamed at the old healer, soundlessly, of course.  
  
And then, a miracle happened, the satan let out a chuckle while holding the magizoologist’s hand up to his chest. His face was relaxed and soft.  
  
Soft! When did those kind of jawline are soft? He must have been hit by a stray reducto. –Auror Number One.  
  
“You, silly. I would have remembered you anywhere.”  
  
Aww…that sounded very sweet. Wait, sweet? He must have been hit by a stray reducto. –Auror Number Two.  
  
Scamander’s green eyes were brimming with tears, but it was soon shed away by two hands from different owner simultaneously.  
  
“Bastard.”  
  
_Oh my Morgana_ …Mr. Scamander, how much do you know about collateral damage? Because… that– oh lord, they were so dead, so dead. We should disapperate right now, fuck the protocol, they weren't even married yet, _for Graves' sake!_ –Auror Number One and Two.  
  
Seeing the two panicked idiots made Grant regret declining the early retirement, might finally do it when the magizoologist decided to leave American soil. He looked back at the more mature men still linked hands; it seemed it wasn't likely the case, was it?


	4. Porpentina Goldstein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say anymore  
> Your supports mean a whole lot to me.
> 
> Thank you.

4\. Porpentina Goldstein  
  
“You’re a godsend, you know that?” Tina and most of the aurors had been going on a major case nonstop for almost twenty hours, she felt grimy and very, very famished. And Newt, being such an angle he secretly was. Brought them, not only one, but three of the famous party-set of Kowalski’s pastries for the whole department.  
  
The shy magizoologist blushed adorably at her compliment, looking at him made her feel less tired already, or this’s just one of another hypoglycemia self-talk; she wasn't sure.  
  
A bit of noise was rising because of the MACUSA’s sweetheart was blessing them with his appearance and his foods, didn't go unnoticed, as evident as the familiar dark ambiance was slowly reaching toward them.  
  
Shit.  
  
“I suppose the case is done? Seeing as you’re celebrating with Mr. Scamander’s treats.”  
  
Shits.  
  
Newt. You should run. Now.  
  
To their amazement and a risk of having a stroke, their sunshine jumped down from Tina’s desk and walked toward the fuming director. Newt! I told you to run, the other way! Not that way! Please stop. Holy Morgana, that was close, too close!  
  
“Relax, dear. They didn't have lunches or dinners, _C'est la soupe qui fait le soldat_. Remember?” Newt spoke softly to Graves, just a foot away from his ear.  
  
_Dear? French?_ This must be from the sugar-shock. Tina shouldn't have eaten all those Nifflers. But they were so good, so delicious. Still in thought, she didn't hear a soft fond exhale from her boss, but some of the aurors did and were extremely taken aback by it all the same.  
  
“Oh, right! I bought your favorite–.” What's more, Newt? Looked at him! Look at his eyes, predator eyes! And Fangs! Carnivorous type! He didn't eat some sweet dessert, he fed on our tears and sweat and overtime exhaustion! Tina was trying to send the message to the oblivious wizard.  
  
Newt wandlessly, _WANDLESSLY?_ Since when Newt could do the wandless magic? Anyway, a floating erumpent cupcake was more than a suspect of their smuggling ring right now for it was glared intensely by many pairs of eyes of MACUSA’s aurors. Please stay floating, don't drop; literally a mantra in every person’s heads in the room.  
  
_Except Newt._  
  
_Melin’s wrinkled sac_.  
  
As in slow motion. The whole department gasped out their horror at the falling erumpent, Newt whisked his head around to see his grenade about to explode. Tina closed her eyes serenely, a peaceful thought lead you to heaven, or so they said.  
  
“I thought I was getting better at this, I was wrong, am I?” Yes, Newt. YES.  
  
“No...Newt. That was pretty great, but we will review on the Accio spell tomorrow, what do you think?” Whose voice was that? Tina opened one of her eyes to look at her boss, the voice was frighteningly similar to him.  
  
In her hemianopsia state, she could see that the grenade was safe and sound on the magizoologist’s hand, hovering over by the director’s one. Whew…that was close but the danger was gone, wait, no. The danger was not gone, it was _more dangerous!_ Because at the moment... Newt decided it was a pleasant idea to lose his fingers by hand-feeding a small piece to the satan. Oh Newt, please stop. That hand was too beautiful to lose.  
  
Oh my god, it's getting closer, Newt! Retreat! RETREAT! Tina didn't want to watch it but neither could she close her one eye nor open the other.  
  
Oh… it's– it’s gone.  
  
_In Graves’ mouth._  
  
Was he really that good at evanesco or did he really eat it? Probably the former.  
  
The brit was still unaware of the alarm going off in every aurors’ head in the room, kept feeding him bit by bit, till half of the dessert was gone. Graves lifted his gaze up from their sunshine to glared at them slowly, one by one, and he had to swallow the last piece he had been chewing; in front of her. Mercy Lewis, that scene was going to be her nightmare’s material.  
  
“I believed you can finish this and the rest in the box by yourself? Cause I need to go check on Hannah. That girl is such a menace, crying for _daddy_ all the time.” Newt padded lightly at Graves’ chest at the word daddy. Sugar-shock’s hallucination was strong.  
  
Why did Graves look very pleased with himself? Oh...right, hallucination.  
  
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement didn't know that it was holding its breath until the magizoologist was out of sight.  
  
“I expect to see full reports on my desk in two hours. And Goldstein?  
  
No one should look that intimidating with a half-finished cupcake in their hand.  
  
“Please wipe that goddamn mouth.”  
  
But who's Tina to judge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'C'est la soupe qui fait le soldat'
> 
> Its literal translation; “It’s the soup that makes the soldier” is more commonly quoted as: “An army marches on its stomach”


	5. Jacob Kowalski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob did fear for Newt, but not quite the same way as the others'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wonderful people, I love you.  
> Thank you for reading this.
> 
> Ps. Seriously, you guys are so amazing, the last chapter will be gifted with a tiny bonus for you all.

5.      Jacob Kowalski  
  
Kowalski’s bakery was chockablock by the hungry customers both No-Maj and Maj alike, the owner himself was ecstatic because he would be more than happy to feed this kind of people. The portly man was enjoying the rush of an evening and the loud buzzing noise of the crowd when something must've happened because it was no longer loud enough to reach the kitchen.  
  
Or someone happened.  
  
Or more like a certain someone went by a name of Percival Graves, _his best friend’s best friend?_ It was getting more suspicious this day.  
  
“Good evening! Mr. Graves, what can I do for you today?” Jacob's voice was surprisingly steady to his own ears.  
  
“I came by to pick up the cake, Newt said you would have finished it by now.” The man’s eyebrows seemed to scare away a young man at the counter, his face was the same shade as the icing on his donut when he scurried away.  
  
But Jacob was sure that his face was paler than that because... _holy grandma_ ; he forgot the cake at his flat, he wasn't worried about Newt doing the poppy thing back to the place. Nevertheless, Mr. Graves was another story.  
  
“Ah– yes! Yes, the cake. Ha ha– that cake, Newt was right! Of course! I finished it. It was lovely and done by the exact instructions he told! It was for Dougal and the occamies, right? It was wonderful, the occamy’s feathers shade of blue was such a challenge! I used like two hours to perfect it, but–.”  
  
“Mr. Kowalski, please. I'm in a bit of hurry here.”  
  
Ha ha ha. Bugger it.  
  
“Ileftitatmyflat!” He spoke with a light speed, uselessly hoped that the magical director wouldn't have caught it.  
  
“You. Left. It. At. Your. Flat?” Oh queenie, where are you?  
  
“Yes..?” Anytime now, Queenie! My darling!  
  
If a glare could light up a fire, himself, his bakery and two miles from here would have been covered in ashes already. But Mr. Graves was a wizard, who could burn the whole city down if he wanted to, shit. Please don't do that. And please stop with the glare. Queenie!  
  
Or lord, Jesus, Zeus? Anyone?  
  
“Percy!” His praying had been answered.  
  
Mr. Graves smiled immediately at the sound, turned himself a little to the side, offered a space beside him on the counter which was taken gladly so by the lean body of his savior. Newt was blushing with exerting energy, he must love Jacob very much for he had come running to save him.  
  
“You could have waited for me, I was almost done.” Yes, Mr. Graves, you could.  
  
“It's just a cake, I want you to have some rest before the party starts. How’s Hannah, though?” What's party? Is Hannah the newborn nundu?  
  
“Much better, and still a daddy girl. She dipped herself in the mud today. I think she wanted to look like her daddy with the flattering dark coat.” Don't tug at his coat, Newt! No need to make an example, he knew what’s a flattering dark coat looked like, alright?  
  
Stop. Wait a minute, (Bruno Mars’ tempo)  
  
Ohhh…Right… _He did know it_.  
  
Newt was always a mummy. So that meant… _ha, daddy?_ Ha ha no, shit.  
  
Or yes shit?  
  
“–get it at your house? Jacob? Jacob!?” Jacob was snapped out from his thought, he was zoning out that long? For just that realization?  
  
“Right. Yes. The cake, at my place. Yes. Let's go.”  
  
“Ah– I can get it myself? You two don't have to come with me, and Percy? I think my…ah– what was it? Never mind, I forget it.” With that, Newt walked to the back kitchen and disappearated away.  
  
So Jacob had like what? Two minutes? Yes, the sooner the better. Oh boy, he wouldn't say that his cognizance lessened any fear or respect toward this _daddy of Newt’s creatures_. But this was for Newt! He could do it! He could! Oh god, it felt like when he had fought in Europe all over again.  
  
Clearing his throat at the man, “–Mr. Graves”  
  
Stop with the eyebrows, please?  
  
“I have seen to something, something's going on between you and Newt. So let me give you a–.”  
  
“ _Shovel Talk?_ ” Those eyebrows were really impressive and scary as hell.  
  
“–ha ha. Yes. Shovel Talk. Well…you see, Newt is and always will be my best friend, he could be a tad too oblivious in his curly head but he's very sensitive with a golden heart–  
  
Someone, please throw something at him, he couldn't stop…  
  
“—So you need to, NEED to take a very good care of him. Because I may not look like it, without your voodoo and abracadabra but what I have is a knowledge of thirty-four ways to poison a man’s bread, and looks very much like an accident. Thirty-four ways, Mr. Graves. THIRTY-FOUR ways.”  
  
Oh my god, what had he done? Queenie! QUEENIE!  
  
However, Mr. Graves’ face didn't show any signs of his anger or annoyance, he looked amused? And a bit _proud?_  
  
“Of course, Mr. Kowalski. Newt’s golden heart is at the top of my concerns. And if you have finished with your threat, please bring two of Darjeeling Tea and a box of Earl Grey; they're what's Newt said he forgot.”  
  
Seemed like Newt was in a good hand after all.  
  
“What’re you two talking about..?” Spoke of the devil.  
  
Upon seeing his magizoologist, Graves took the problematic cake box from his hand and snatched three boxes of Newt’s Tea on the counter under his coat before Jacob could properly put them down or answer his friend’s question.  
  
“Till next time, Mr. Kowalski.”  
  
“Sure thing, Percy.” Woah, that was just kind of slipped out.  
  
“Don't call me Percy.”  
  
Oh Merlin, _Merlin?_ He thought he could hear Queenie’s laughing in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just Jacob (and Queenie, obviously) realized they're dating, the whole MACUSA still has no idea till the later chapter ;)


	6. Percival Graves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satan's Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your +1 with you know who and a tiny bonus.  
> 2000+ words, oh god.
> 
> Thank you, love you guys so much.

+1 Percival Graves

The 12th Summer Swing held by The Magical Congress of the United States of America was something beyond magical, no pun intended. The once glimmering hall behind ordinary skyscraper was replaced by the most breathtaking landscape, not dissimilar to the famous Northwest Highlands, Scottish beauty. Instead of the green soft grass, laid a sleek grand dark wooden floor that being stepped on in a dazzling manner by many pairs of heels and jazz oxfords along the vivacious music played by the Goblins Brothers. Even with alcohol prohibition, all the guests and MACUSA’s employees were genuinely having a good time.  
  
_He fucking hated it_.  
  
Exhausting and such a waste, Graves dreaded to see what left of their budget; sometimes, Picquery really puzzled him with her judgments. But he was her right-hand man, couldn't make many complaints, could he?  
  
And this time, Graves more than loathed it; considering he usually (had to be dragged by Madam President herself, through the dramatic flying unfinished reports) attended this horror alone and for the first time in his lonesome years of being a head of Magical Law Enforcement, _he did have a date_ , which would be a blessing if the man were actually here with him. Right here, right now, not like this.  
  
Well, where was him? His date? _His Magizoologist?_ Oh right, busying himself with their babies, why it had to be his turn to leave the case today?  
  
Not fair, not at all.  
  
Now, we panned the view from the grumpy director to a group of his minions with their laced drinks in their hands, a courtesy of auror Patel, and sympathized looks on their face sent to the other side of the magical lake.  
  
“–Merlin helps that girl from finance, she looks both terrified and swoons over our boss.” — O’Brien.  
  
“Even Merlin can't help with something like that, and looked at Abernathy, he seriously doesn't think that punch going to be drunk instead of soaking wet on his shirt, oh shit...” — Fontaine winced at the short man who had been approaching Graves, but promptly, seemed to be fighting with his own feet or more likely, a wandless magic.  
  
“Have you seen Newt? I thought he said he would certainly be here but I couldn't find him.” — Goldstein, the sexy moody one. (According to Fontaine.)  
  
“Well...no, we haven't. Which is unfortunate, I really want to see our sunshine dresses to the nines, just imagines that slim waist–.”  
  
“– lovely butts,”  
  
“– sinful freckled skin.”  
  
“ _Of whom?_ ”  
  
“– of Ne- Oh! Neooo, No one, sir! No one.” O’Brien was trying so hard to hold back his choke and not to squeak at the burnt by a little flame from Fontaine’s cigarette. And wasn't the satan supposed to be hundred-foot away from them a second ago? Blamed that MACUSA’s sweetheart, they usually had better instincts and reflexes.  
  
Upon hearing a faint wisp of the word _‘freckled’_ , Graves abused his privilege by being the director of MLE; apparated in the Woolworth building right in front of his idiots, disregard Patel and Fontaine, the women were more evil than stupid; they were his faves.  
  
Graves was about to press on more when he sensed the familiar presence of the more, or his most favorited person, oh…it had been too long already. ( _You’re so disgustingly endearing – Newt, at the later time_.) And _Sweet mercy Lewis_ , wasn't that a sight to behold, _his sweetheart_ , not MACUSA’s, okay? Attired in a dark sharp tuxedo that hugged at all the right places, his usual mess of auburn curls was tamed artfully, ready to be tangled by his hands.  
  
Oh god, when would he be able to perceive this aesthetic.  
  
In his defense, Newt seemed to be astounded by Graves’ appearance as well, judging by the hungry look in the green eyes and the slow dragging of that pink wicked tongue on his lower lip. Someone stop this man, Graves didn't want to cause a workplace sexual harassment.  
  
Wait, no. Don't you dare touch Scamander.  
  
Why his life had to be this conflicted?  
  
The warm and soft touch on his hand pulled Graves out from his reverie, a pair of shy eyes looked up at him and a mischievous smile followed, the look would be called a farouche one, but without the usual auburn fringes, it looked very much coquettish. The director couldn't help himself but leaned down a little.  
  
And Newt, always full of surprises, pulled at his lapels to close the small space and gave him a _kiss_.  
  
It started out gentle just lips over lips, so Graves granted it with his leisure tongue, which seemed to frustrate the red head, Newt’s hands crept up from his suit to the back of his neck and pulled at the little patch of hairs there.  
  
_Mercy Lewis._  
  
The reaction was immediate, Graves groaned out a feral growl and Newt used that opportunity to send his tongue to explore inside. Graves didn't let _his boy_ dominate this easily, he tightened his grip on the slender waist and pressed themselves together hardly, Newt smiled on his lips; delighted in the rough treatment. _Morgana be damned_ , this man was going to be the death of him.  
  
“Holy fuck.”  
  
“Merlin’s blue balls!”  
  
“It'd rather hot in here–.”  
  
And dozens of other incomprehensible phrases, but very much alike in the tone, pierced through Graves’ euphoric moment.  
  
_Whose voices were those?!_ The owners would be so fired because they startled his date! Who stopped their session too soon and seemed to realize his own doing, a very wonderful doing, however; Newt didn't think the same for he was hiding his kiss-swollen lips and embarrassment in Graves’ shoulder and letting the soft _‘I’m sorry?’_ in the crook of his neck.  
  
_So._  
  
_Fucking._  
  
_Fired._  
  
“Sir–.” “Boss–.”  
  
“What?!” His annoyance was abundantly clear. God, Newt tasted like Earl Grey and a hint of mint, he loved mint and he loved kissing Newt. Both were gone by these idiots’ interruption.  
  
“Oh– wow, that was woah, ha ha, ah- sir? Well, ah.”  
  
“Have you suddenly lost your brain, O’Brien?”  
  
“Well, no? Not exactly, I was kind of expected that I would be when N- Mr. Scamander–.”  
  
“–snogged you senseless.” — Fontaine, while silently mourning at her fallen cigarette, again.  
  
“You seemed to be more than okay with it?” — Goldstein.  
  
What the fuck?  
  
“Of course! I am more than okay with kissing my _fiancé!_ What's wrong with you lots?”  
  
“Fiancé!?!” — the minions and everyone who had been eavesdropping.  
  
“Now you're repeating me. Stop being stupid, will you? Merlin only knows why I hired these imbeciles. Come on, _love_. I don't want you to breathe the same air with them, might lower your IQ.” Seriously, Newt’s intelligence was one of many things he cherished about this man.  
  
“That was mean, Percy.” Came with a swat at his arm. The gesture seemed to silence the lively jazz song and the whole crew of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so quiet you could here the fake buzzing sound of the charmed forest.  
  
Lord, what was it? Newt just touched him arm, which was like the best thing ever. And Newt had touched _more than his arms_ , mind you.  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Graves politely asked because this was getting too ridiculous.  
  
“You two engaged? Since when? A-and I don't see any rings.” Very observant of you, Goldstein.  
  
“Well, the Niffler…” Newt gave out a dulcet murmur of explanation without looking up from Graves’ shoulder.  
  
Stop being adorable please, you’re extenuating my intimidating scowl!  
  
“Since when? Let me think, since…it's NONE of your business, I would very much love to dance with my betrothed. And please...do stop being such morons or at least stop looking like ones.” With that, he half-carried and half-dragged Newt’s slumped form away from his dumbstruck aurors to the dance floor, where the crowd parted for them like they were walking through the river, _nice._ Then the Goblins switched to play a much sweeter piece, he didn't threaten them with his glare and a silent command for a slow dance. Why would he do such thing?  
  
Newt was so warm and oh _Merlin_ …his hair, did he sing you the lament when he hadn't gotten to touch it for two days? What a dark time of his life.  
  
Graves spun his partner gently and pulled him into a tighter embrace, he changed his mind, this was the best dance gala he’d ever been.  
  
Ah…so good...  
  
So good it was quite a pain when his fiancé pinched his flank.  
  
“Ouch! That's hurt!” Graves was a very sensitive man, remember?  
  
“Good. That's how they're feeling right now. Why did you talk to them like that?”  
  
“Like what? Like my usual self?”  
  
“Oh Percy…how many times have we talked about this? You don't always talk like that… You’ve never talked to me like that.”  
  
“They're not you, _obviously_. I would NEVER talk to you like that, you're an exceptional case, my only case, no one can solve it but me.” Aww..look at those blushes, no, you stop looking at those blushes right now.  
  
“You cannot talk sweet nothing out of this, Per– wait, what are you doing? Oh my god, people is staring– Perciv—!”  
  
He started counting the tempting freckles by his mouth, if that’s what are you wondering.  
  
Mercy Lewis, how he loved mint.  
  
And Newt, of course.

  
  
\+ Bonus  
  
“Well, we should have seen that coming, actually. With all those spectacular suicidal things Scamander did and always came out unscratched.” – O’Brien.  
  
“Should we? Oh lord, no. I cannot let myself picture sunshine with the satan, it would be too…bizarre? Cause satan rules hell, not heaven.” – Woods, you knew that this was aurors’ confidential conversation? Go away, shoo.  
  
“I’m more curious about you, Goldstein–.” Fontaine paused to lit another cigarette, hopefully stayed at her mouth till it burnt out. “– I thought Scamander crashed at your place, you didn't notice anything?”  
  
“What? No! He didn't live with us, he said he stayed with his friend? I was worried, but then Queenie said it was true, to a certain extent. Oh my god…it wasn't a friend, was it?”  
  
“A friend who kisses him like a starving man and proposes to him later. Sounds like an awesome friend, where can I find myself one?” – Auror Number One.  
  
“Sounds like me, sans the proposal.” – Auror Number Two.  
  
“You two gits, see your asses out of here! This is one of senior aurors’ confabulations.” – O’Brien.  
  
“Woods is here!” Came a protest.  
  
“I was a victim, I need to give my statement.”  
  
“No- you’re not! God– you know what? Fuck it, I'm too sobered for this, I need a drink.” – there's gone, O’Brien.  
  
“Come to think of it, Scamander is the _real satan_ here, cause Graves is like…a less satan? No no…What I mean is that Scamander literally has him wrapped around his little fingers–.”  
  
“– Don't forget about the _Iron-bellies_ thing, they literally snuggled with him. And his case! That bloody case with a pack of occamies and loads of terrifying Merlin knows what else–.”  
  
“– and the nundus! I thought their breath could kill!”  
  
“They could, you should read his book.” – Patel, the only sane person in the story.  
  
“Oh hello, my darling.” – You know who.  
  
“It seems to come to a conclusion that our cinnamon roll can protect himself, why were we wasting our life-years fretting about his wellbeing? _Fuck…boss was right_ , that sounded really stupid. Oh my god…just look at them, slow dancing and making out like they're only people in the room. And that smug grin, Graves is so fucking _obvious_ , why haven't we– and look at– Awww... but sunshine is happy, he's so adorable…” A drink he got, so he was back.  
  
“–yes. The cutest satan who ever graced this earth, I’ll give him my life.” – most of the MACUSA’s people.  
  
“Not if I take yours first.” Graves’ voice rang in their heads.  
  
Holy Merlin, they should have had stayed oblivious, at least they could admire the magizoologist verbally.  
  
“I think this is rather good, we can go to Scamander when Graves being too hard on us, like one of those kind _mummies_.” – Patel.  
  
  
  
The truth has been revealed, Senior Auror Patel is the _actual_ satan in this story.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Hooray! This one was quite fun to write.  
> Now, I'm asking all of you...  
> About my new story for this couple, pick one or both, I don't know lol.  
> A. Soulmate AU - Soulmark is a thing with a bit of special case for this two  
> B. Werewolf and Vampire AU - So dark, very dark; blinding you with the darkness.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the love and everything. I will reply to every comment of yours as soon as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are much appreciated.  
> I'm open for prompt as well. 
> 
> XOXO


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